A Man of Lesser Worth
by UmiUmiSumi
Summary: When Mr Darcy decides to flee Hertfordshire and his growing attraction to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the story must go on, even without him. AU, Regency, Elizabeth/Col. Fitzwilliam
1. Prologue: Exit Mr Darcy

Hello dear readers, and welcome to my second foray (and first long-form story) in the Pride and Prejudice fandom!

Author's Notes:  
While I am usually a Elizabeth/Darcy purist, I have, for some reason, always had a soft spot for Col. Fitzwilliam. Perhaps it is because he and Elizabeth get along so well during his brief presence in the story, and that his character is much more open to interpretation and personal creation than the more prominent characters in the book. There are some stories out there where Elizabeth has married him, but usually as background for the current romance she has with Mr Darcy, and the poor Col. has usually already passed away, and very few paint him and Elizabeth being well-suited for each other.  
Along with that, I have seen another couple of tropes in this fandom that I've wanted to upturn a little, the first being the idea that Elizabeth cannot love anyone else as much as she can love Mr Darcy, which ties into my disappointment with Elizabeth/Col. F pairings, and close to this is another trope that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's love is supreme because of their markedly different temperments, and the whole 'opposites attract' business. Also, there is a tendency to turn Elizabeth into some sort of "Hot Girl Somehow Undervalued" and, I feel, create a much more outwardly attractive Elizabeth than she was meant to be. Finally, the whole thing with Mr Darcy being the whole package: handsome, rich, and, ultimately, quite dashing, leaves me a little bored after a while. Some flaws, aside from being an introvert and a little bit of a privileged snob, while enough for the conflict of Miss Austen's wonderful story, would be nice in the expanded world of fan-fiction. But instead of re-modeling Mr Darcy to be a bit more humble (and there are many wonderful stories that do this), I just decided to get rid of him and find Elizabeth a different beau.

Along with the above, this story is also inspired by my own wonderful husband, who is loving, kind, and likeminded with me in many ways (thus my disgruntlement with the 'opposites attract' trope), responsible and devoted, and quite a catch even though we are not wealthy. So, the dear Colonel's appearance, and some of his mannerisms, have been modeled on him. (I have not quite the vanity to model Elizabeth on myself. Then she would be a little too homely even for my tastes!)

A few more notes before we begin:  
1) I am not an expert on the Regency period, nor am I an expert on the correct usage of language for the time. I'm playing this story a little looser in the period accuracy than I would like to eventually endeavor to, in the name of getting my feet wet in the genre and to not further slow my already glacial writing pace. Feel free to point out or correct any glaring inconsistencies or obvious continuity errors, but don't expect me to get all the details down.

2) As I hinted above, I am a famously slow writer, and I have a bad habit of letting fics grow old and die before finishing. I hope to not do that here, and I will try to get one chapter up every two weeks at the longest.

I fear I have made this preamble as long as this little prologue chapter. Whups. Enjoy!

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A Man of Lesser Worth: Prologue

Exit Mr Darcy

By UmiUmiSumi

November 18th, 1811

Richard,

I am writing to inform you of some immediate changes concerning plans for Georgiana and myself. I have decided that a change of scenery may be the best course of action to help in mending her shaken composure after what occurred last year, as I still feel that she has yet to 'come around' to her former self being contained in the familiarity of Pemberley.

Having said that, I shall be leaving Hertfordshire with haste to join Georgiana at Pemberley to prepare and await the melting of winter snows. From thence I plan to take her upon a great tour of the North, Scotland, Wales, and perhaps even Ireland if we come upon reliable guides. I only regret that the Continent is not safe travel in these times, but perhaps there will be a certain familiar comfort in touring the extent of our homeland.

As we have discussed before, I am placing the care of Pemberley into your capable hands while we are away. I pray that this is not too large of an imposition, but four months should be ample time to secure the proper leave from your regiment, and my steward and Mrs Reynolds will be well-used to running most of the operations themselves in my absence.

Again, I apologize deeply for imposing upon your person, but hope, and indeed, am assured that seeing to Georgiana's well-being is as paramount to you as it is to me. I very much hope you can join us in February before we leave for our tour.

Your cousin,

F. Darcy

Mr Darcy handed the short missive to the postman and handed him payment for the letter he had just received from his sister. He opened it and read absently for a moment: it contained nothing of particular interest beyond her expression that she missed his presence dearly and hoped that he would be able to return by Christmastide. He folded the letter again, though holding it conspicuously and walked into the parlor where Mr Bingley sat with his sisters and brother-in-law, he looking quite desolate at having just bid adieu to the Miss Bennets. The sisters looked smug and triumphant at the departure of the burdensome duo, and Mr Hurst was sleeping away his mid-day half-bottle of scotch whisky. Mr Darcy gathered up his best look of concern and strode into the room.

He had only stood by the window staring pensively out, then back down at Georgiana's letter, then back out again for but a few minutes before Miss Bingley, as predictable as the tides, inquired, sticky-sweet, as to what seemed to be troubling him so and was it, in fact, something to do with the letter that he was holding? He hesitated, then capitulated far more easily than he ever would have with Caroline, and thanked his stars that Bingley was so wrapped up in his own lamentations to notice his uncharacteristic behavior (and that Caroline was at time so dense.)

He expressed his distress over receiving Georgiana's latest letter, that her spirits were so very low and that he was beside himself as to how to lift her outlook. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst fell into chorus-like chirps of , "No!" and, "Dreadful, the poor dear!" and the like as he told of his sister's woeful melancholy. Bingley, at this point, had been stirred from his own daydreams and was at Darcy's attention fully, which was what he had been aiming for all along.

He then expressed his scheme to lift young Georgiana's spirits – a grand tour about the more picturesque and pastoral lands of their own dear England, from the beaches of Brighton to the moors of Northumberland and beyond. The cares of his companions wrapped up in his reverie, he made his proposal that he must leave on the morrow and the emotion of the conversation was so decidedly rushing in that direction that there was nothing the Bingley party could do but agree that was the only thing to do, and that even Caroline was wishing him a safe journey back to Pemberley before she realized what she was saying.

And so it happened thusly that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy quit the neighborhood and Miss Elizabeth Bennet's threatening presence.


	2. Chapter 1: Enter Colonel Fitzwilliam

Hello! I wanted to thank everyone for the kind reviews. Here is the first full chapter.

Chapter 1: Enter Colonel Fitzwilliam

Colonel Richard Percival Fitzwilliam of the 27th Regiment of Foot Guard was irritated.

Being not of an irascible nature, this situation was unusual indeed, not to mention when coupled with a comfortable bed and an unseasonably temperate day for late March in Kent. A military man knew when to appreciate the finer things that life had to offer, especially when he could be sleeping on the damp, hard ground in God knows where (likely Spain as things were presently) under the threat of rain and death. But at this particular moment, he would rather have taken his chances with Bonaparte than the woman who was awaiting him, undoubtedly impatiently, down stairs.

As if the mere thought of her had summoned her like a banshee, he could hear the highest tones of her interrogation of some hapless servant through even the stone walls of Rosings house: "…Where is my Nephew, and why is his cousin not with him…?"

"Blast it all, Darcy, why couldn't you have waited until after Easter to gallivant off across the country…" he muttered to himself as he fussed with his cravat in the looking-glass, tying and retying it as a means to try and stave off the inevitable.

It had been some four weeks now since the Colonel had said his adieus to his cousins, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his young sister, Georgiana, from the steps of their estate, Pemberley. Having spent the previous day going over business with Darcy, all that was left were some final pleasantries, and a brief discussion of some inconsistencies he had noticed in Darcy's motives.

"Richard," Darcy cried with surprise when his cousin came to join him in the breakfast parlor, something he did not expect, as the hour was quite too early for anyone else to be up and about, "this is rather unlike you to be up and dressed for company so early. Even Georgiana is still in her chambers. Scone?"

The Colonel took the proffered pastry and poured the last dregs of coffee from the decanter on the sideboard, and plopped down into the chair beside his cousin.

"Indeed, I am up, I am dressed, and yes…" he rubbed his eyes blearily, "this is not the hour that I choose to be about when on leave, nor when we were up rather late with both business and brandy." He then took a large bite of scone and washed it down with the entire cup of coffee.

Darcy raised one dark eyebrow and returned to his own buttered scone and sausage, nonplussed. "I suppose there is some reason for this breach of habit?"

"Your supposition is correct, cousin," he replied before finishing his pastry.

"Well, out with it then," Darcy answered distractedly. "Is there some last minute business that we neglected to discuss?"

"Oh, no, none of the sort. Please, I can do no more with ledgers and crop schedules and the like… for the next twenty-four hours at least!" Richard laughed, though he was immediately more serious, and breathed in deeply before approaching the subject he wished to speak on. He decided at the last minute that he would not beat around the bush and just come out with it, as his cousin had asked: "Darce, I can tell that this tour is not simply about Georgiana. You have been in some sort of state the entire time I have been in your presence these last two days as well. What is it that troubles you so that you must beat a hasty retreat?"

Darcy stared inscrutably, then wiped his mouth with his napkin before setting it back down on his lap. "I haven't the slightest notion what you are speaking of, cousin. Do you not agree that Georgiana's spirits have lifted in anticipation of our tour?"

"Of course she does; it comes with the promise of many things a girl her age would be most thrilled to do and see. That was not my point. You said in your letter to me that her spirits were uncommonly low and that she was having difficulty in rallying from the situation last summer. I have no reason to think, after seeing and speaking with her, that she was any more poorly than when I saw her last. In fact, Mrs. Annesley professed that in her estimation, Georgiana was slowly but surely regaining her cheerfulness these past few months," Richard stopped there, taking another pastry from the platter on the table and wagged it at his cousin accusingly.

"You cannot know that for certain," Darcy countered, "what she tells me versus what she confides to Mrs Annesley are two different…"

"Blast it, Darcy, don't give me that tripe about how I don't know how things are with my baby cousin," the scone in his hand, now half-eaten, waved around more dramatically. "While she may be your sister by blood, she is as much one to myself. Aside from that, I also had an odd conversation with her, where she appeared to be under the impression that this tour is a birthday-present for her sixteenth birthday."

Darcy's countenance darkened nearly imperceptibly. Unfortunately, he was under the intense scrutiny of one of the few people intimate enough with him to catch wind of this kind of indication, and Richard smirked for his small triumph.

"Aha! It is something else," he then finished his second scone and continued after a pause to swallow, "Come now, I cannot imagine what would scare or threaten you out of town altogether."

"Richard…" Darcy muttered, glowering as he rose from his chair, tossing his napkin to the table unceremoniously and walked to peer out of a nearby window.

"Pray, it would seem quite unlike you to get into some sort of fix with money," Richard mused lightly, following his cousin to the window and denying him the solitude he went there, in vain, to seek. "Or the estate."

Silence, though he could see Darcy's sidelong glance that was nearly a roll of the eyes. Not that one.

"Indeed… A matter of honor, then? But again, so unlike my upright and righteous cousin to call out, or dare I say, be called out? And what for? Trifling with a nobleman's daughter?" he laughed aloud at this, and Darcy produced a snort and another eye roll. Certainly not that.

"Right, right. This would lead one to the deduction that it must be," he leaned against the wall beside his cousin, his crooked grin cocked and ready with what he knew now was the only possible reason that the man would feel compelled to concoct such an elaborate hoax to extricate himself from the company of his friends: "a woman."

He received no reply, but a tightening of the jaw, the sinew at the side of his face raising ever so slightly. Jackpot!

"It finally happened, who would believe it? Now, my dear cousin, of course I know what sort of difficulty you have being in society, and that there does beat a heart beneath that well-dressed chest of yours; I do take quite a laugh at what I imagine all of the mamas and hopeful-Mrs Darcy's of the Ton would be saying. But, it seems that I must be getting along before horse here – there must be something off with the situation for you to have taken such means to separate yourself from her society?" The Colonel's jest becoming sharper little by little in hopes of gaining some sort of outward reaction. Darcy's jaw simply tightened further.

"Certainly, one of many defects should frighten one as fastidious as you are; I might imagine the lady in question could be too tall, to short, lacking in breast, or too well-endowed, too smart, too stupid, her mouth may be too large, or her teeth are far too white, or her people are ill-bred, or her father too poor or—"

It seemed that Darcy could take no more, and turned on his heel, grasping his equally-tall cousin by his cravat, the devil blazing in his steel-grey eyes, and growled:

"Richard, shut your bloody mouth and leave me be!"

And with that, he quickly stalked out of the breakfast-parlor. Richard, eyes wide but not as easily flustered as a gentleman who had not the experience of warfare in his background, straightened his coat and loosened his pulled cravat.

"Perhaps I went too far," he mused, looking out the window himself now, the early morning fog still thick on the lawn of Pemberly. "Dare I say, I must have come far too close to home there somewhere. Poor Darce, he is not himself at all."

Col. Fitzwilliam resolved to make an apology to Mr Darcy before he left that afternoon, and taking another scone with him, he thought nothing more of it and exited the breakfast parlor in search of the stables.

"Nephew. Richard. Richard!"

The shrill voice of his dear aunt Catherine broke him from his musings to see her peering up (though somehow it still felt like down even though he had surpassed her in height some twenty years ago) at him over her aquiline nose, her hooded but piercing stare enough to still make him very uneasy, something she had on many a superior he had encountered.

"Forgive me, Aunt, what was your question again?" he asked, blinking his glazed eyes to try and trick himself into being interested in whatever prattle she was going on with now. He usually prided himself on his genteel demeanor, which was indicative of his upbringing as the son of an Earl, though, being at Rosings in the company of only his Aunt, his sickly and rather dull cousin Anne, and now this greasy little toad of a parson of whom it seemed was the only local company his aunt deemed acceptable to have around for dinner (or the other way 'round, he was sure) was enough for even him to forget his manners at times. Perhaps the familiarity as well put him off his game, but whatever the reason was, a Richard Fitzwilliam in Rosings was not the same as he would be elsewhere.

"Mr Collins has guests staying at the parsonage with Mrs Collins and must be away to attend to them now, do you not, Mr Collins?" she turned to her parson, who seemed to be near constantly in a trembling state when he was in her presence; Col. Fitzwilliam found him reminiscent of small, hairless oriental lap-dog and was quite taken aback at Lady Catherine's luck in finding such a well-suited flatterer for her entourage.

"Yes, yes my ladyship. Dear lord Colonel, I can speak thusly for my dear wife, and we are, as you know now, quite of one mind together! But I would extend the invitation – at your condescension of course! – for a tour of my humble abode and an introduction to my dear, dear Charlotte and our house-guests. You see, Lady Catherine has seen to the well-being of my new household and she said that I must make sure to invite Mrs Collins' relations and her good friend – also my cousin as well! – to spend the Easter season here with us in Kent." Mr Collins said in his normal pomp and stammer, head bowing up and down between his esteemed Lady and her nephew.

"Of course, Mr Collins, Colonel Fitzwilliam surely finds himself quite engaged in family matters here with Anne and myself—" Lady Catherine interjected, only to have the Colonel butt in before she could elaborate on what sort of torture was in store for him through the rest of the afternoon.

"—Actually I think it would be a wonderful idea to visit the parsonage! The walk into the village sounds quite invigorating, and I would very much enjoy being introduced to Mrs Collins and your guests," he said, turning to Collins animatedly, which made the vicar tremble with delight

"Richard, but I insist-" Lady Catherine again tried to assert herself, and as much as a force to be reckoned with, the Colonel had a way with resisting her (years of practice, no doubt).

"Oh Aunt, there shall be plenty of time ahead for us to catch up, and I've got nothing but boring old war stories," he retorted with a smile.

Lady Catherine frowned, rolled her eyes, and with the wave of her imperious wrist sent him off with Mr Collins.

The walk to the parsonage was thirty minutes of some of the most mind-alteringly banal conversation he had the displeasure of trying to attend to. Hearing Mr Collins extol his Aunt in descriptors that he had never heretofore seen ascribed to her was amusing the first couple of times, having to try and politely remind the man that, indeed, he was quite familiar with many of the fireplaces in Rosings, and, yes, the tapestries are quite delightful (if not somewhat moth-eaten). He was just beginning to doubt the wisdom of his grand plan to get away from his relations as Mr Collins opened into the virtues of his stamp collection when they came upon the gate to the parsonage garden. It was a comfortable enough looking cottage with a well-kept garden and a row of bee-hives round back near the vegetables. As they entered the gate and rounded the corner to the rear of the house where there was a comfortable bench they came upon Mrs Collins and her friend sitting together in conversations.

"Ah, and here is my wonderful wife, a blessing in every way!" Collins exclaimed as the ladies broke away from their chatting to stand and greet the stranger with Mr Collins. "Charlotte, this noble fellow who has taken time away from the splendor of Rosings is Colonel Fitzwilliam, nephew to our esteemed patroness Lady Catherine, and himself the younger son of the Lady's elder brother, the Earl of Matlock!"

Richard observed the two ladies, and had to assume the one who curtsied and wore a wife's cap must be Charlotte Collins, a plain, shapeless and thin thing with a pair of very wily eyes on her.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lord," she said elegantly with a strong voice. He bowed, but before he could respond back, Collins was again at talking.

"And this young lady is not only Mrs Collins' particular friend from her hometown in Hertfordshire, but also a cousin of mine via our fathers' lines, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourne."

Richard was instantly struck the moment he turned his attention to Miss Bennet: her figure was well-formed and sturdy, though light for her frame, of an average height. Her face was not glamorous, though definitely pretty: a round face with ruddy cheeks and a turned-up nose, dark-brown hair that was not kept unstylish, but she had the brightest eyes and very expressive brow. While her features piecemeal were nothing spectacular, somehow they came together very, very well. He could not help but cocking a crooked grin – a feature of all Fitzwilliam males – and bowed deeply.

"Colonel," she said simply as she nodded and curtsied back, and when his eyes raised to meet hers, he could see mischief forming in hers, and she mirrored his grin with a momentary flash of a lopsided smirk.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance," he replied to the ladies, first bestowing a kiss upon the gloved hand of Mrs Collins, then on her friend, though he feared that he may have lingered a little longer with Miss Elizabeth, though she did not look displeased.

"My dear where has my sister Maria gone to? She must meet the Colonel as well!" Collins interjected somewhat forcefully, obviously displeased that the girl had not been able to anticipate a quite unexpected visitor and known to be out with the rest of the party to receive him.

"She was very tired after we tried to walk with Eliza this morning and is resting in her room; we are not as accustomed to her sorts of rambles and the dear thing almost did not make it back to the parsonage without help! But if it would please you, husband, I could try to rouse her…" Mrs Collins replied to her husband, her last words, while seeming deferential, implied that Maria was not to be bothered presently. Unfortunately, the look on Collins' face showed that he was not satisfied with letting his sister-in-law sleep, and just as he was about to open his mouth to insist, the Colonel ran interference for poor Mrs Collins:

"I will surely meet her soon, if not today, then the next time your party comes to dine at Rosings. I hear," he could see the relief on Mrs Collins' face that she had been saved (at least in this instance) from her husband exposing his callous disregard for others, "that you have been keeping my Aunt entertained the past two weeks before my arrival. That is quite the service, and I thank you for giving her some pleasant company." His meaning here was more sincerity than hyperbole, though Collins' immediate dissemblance at the compliment was what he was expecting from the man, though from the corner of his eye he noticed Miss Elizabeth raise her hand to cover a giggle that she was having difficulty suppressing and wondered if she had gotten the truth (and sad humor) of his statement.

As Mrs Collins invited him in for refreshments, Colonel Fitzwilliam no longer regretted his arrival alone in Kent and accompanying Mr Collins to his abode; he sensed a kindred spirit in Mrs Collins' pretty friend, and hoped to get to know more about her in the weeks ahead.


	3. Chapter 2: A New Acquaintance

Hello all! Thank you again for more encouragement in the comments. Though I write for my own pleasure, knowing that someone out there is interested in reading goes a long way.

To address a couple of things from the comments section...

Regarding Mr Collins calling the Colonel "Lord": I left this in to show that Collins is an idiot, but I think that it would have been better left out. I have been finding that it is very difficult to write Mr Collins well... His particular brand of obseiquiousness is very nuanced, and I'm even more impressed with Austen for creating the little worm.

Regarding the stamp collection: noted, I shall change that line to something else inane that is period correct.

Regarding Darcy Angst: How can I pass up on Darcy angst? He's so wonderful to make squirm! I promise it will not be ridiculous, but there will obviously be some tension when he returns. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE Mr Darcy still, and I even have the plot for a nice sequel for him perculating in my head right now - I won't be too mean to him.

Again, thank you all for reading.

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Chapter 2

Elizabeth Esther Bennet, second and most sensible daughter of the Master of Longbourn was thoughtful.

She had come to Kent some two weeks before, the invitation away from home a welcome distraction from thoughts that chose to weigh upon her more heavily than she liked. Presently she walked in comfortable silence with her childhood friend and confidant, Charlotte Collins, who was recently married to Elizabeth's distant cousin, Mr Collins, and Mrs Collins' sixteen year old sister, Maria, both of whom were walking rather slowly now and concentrating on finishing their hike and returning to Mrs Collins' home for some much-needed refreshments and rest. For Elizabeth, the walk was a normal part of her morning, and so took their slowed pace as an opportunity to lose herself in musing of thought.

Her life had become somewhat more interesting since the coming of Mr Bingley to the neighborhood back in Hertfordshire, beginning with the fevered anticipation of a connection between Elizabeth's beautiful and sweet older sister, Jane, and the aforementioned Mr Bingley, continuing to many social engagements with the new society in town and the presence of the militia and the swooning of the younger ladies of her home at them. While the buzz in her sphere was enough as it was, Elizabeth, who was not accustomed to receiving much attention between having a much prettier older sister and three extremely ridiculous younger ones, found herself first insulted and accosted by Mr Bingley's handsome but dour friend Mr Darcy, but also became the object of interest by two men recently come to the neighborhood - first, Mr Wickham, a lieutenant in the Militia, whose charm and gentility she could not be unattracted by, and second, Mr Collins himself, who had made quite the situation in the Bennet household when he proposed marriage to Elizabeth, who found him odious at best, and would not take any refusal she made seriously.

On top of it all, nothing seemed to be working out quite well for her peace of mind from these attentions: though she managed to finally get Mr Collins (and her mother) to let the proposal go, she was rather dismayed that her friend Charlotte had, motivated by what she could only assume as desperation, accepted Mr Collins' proposal to her only a day later. Shortly thereafter she found herself abandoned by Mr Wickham for another young woman whose fortune would allow him to quit the militia and become a proper gentleman (or at least that's how he explained it). In fact, the only two things that had kept her from becoming quite cross with the past six months was the growing romance between her sister and Mr Bingley, which was a delight for her to see her sister attached to an equally as amiable man, and the fact that Mr Darcy had quit town not long after his arrival, thus saving her from his sour stares and self-important declarations.

Of these events she and Mrs Collins had discussed, analyzed, and re-examined a few times over the duration of her stay (though the events involving Charlotte's now-husband were left mostly undiscussed), partially to bring Charlotte up to date with the happenings back in Hertfordshire, partially for Elizabeth to try and work out her feelings about some of these events. Elizabeth was not one to be at peace not knowing her own mind, and in the months since her friend married and left for Kent she sharply felt the absence of her friend's logical assessments of Elizabeth's – at times overly-felt – emotional reactions to her life. Elizabeth was now quite done unpacking and re-packing her mind, and was determined to now enjoy the rest of her stay without the weight of such things upon her.

"Thank heavens, we are returned" Maria all-but shouted, though breathless as she was, and with a nod of her sister, scurried inside to fetch the maid for drinks.

Elizabeth could not help but laugh as she and Charlotte sat on a bench in the parsonage garden to wait for the lemonade that Maria had been wishing for since before their walk had been halfway finished.

"You seem in much better spirits today, Eliza my dear," Charlotte commented with a smile. Elizabeth nodded, leaning back onto her arms and relishing the sunlight on her cheeks.

"Aye, I am feeling of one mind with myself again," she glanced at her friend with a pout, "how shall I ever make sense of myself without your advice, Charlotte?"

"Oh, after knowing each other for the past twenty years you really should be able to simply summon me up in your head. I have certainly had to do that a few times since I have come to Kent with my memory of you! 'What would Eliza say about this? What would she do?'"

"And what sort of thing does the little Elizabeth in your head advise you on? Which mud puddle is the best to dash through after a rain?"

"Hardly! No, in fact, when there are situations in my day that bring me no pleasure but there is nothing to be done about them, I hear you say, "Charlotte, you must not dwell on such things that cannot be changed." My thoughts are not often as composed as I present myself, you know, and remembering your lively joy for life inspires me to find that wherever I may."

Elizabeth blushed, "That is quite a compliment, and though I am not sure I am worth of being considered an inspiration, I shall take it anyway!"

Maria returned with the kitchen maid and a pitcher of lemonade, glasses, and a tray of biscuits, which were all readily and heartily dug into by the three of them. As Charlotte spoke with her sister of what she was planning to do with the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth returned pondered more on how she knew that as hard as Charlotte tried to not imply that her marriage was anything less than desirable and everything she had wanted, it still showed that life was difficult for her at times in her new situation. She'd seen a frown here, a sigh there, a mention of needing to lean on the memory of a happy friend to push down frustrations. Though she was feeling less apt to judge Charlotte's choice of a husband, she was nonetheless still worried for her friend's long-term happiness. Unfortunately, this sort of conversation was one that she knew she could not have in, for one thing she and Charlotte had in common was a pride in their own decisions, though if one were to ask Elizabeth, Charlotte was much more stubborn!

Still, this meant that oftentimes their conversations about more personal matters would turn back to what plans, hopes, and foibles were to be discussed about Elizabeth and Elizabeth only.

On time with this thought, Maria had excused herself back to her bedroom to rest, and Charlotte returned to their more intimate conversation as before.

"You had mentioned a letter from Jane yesterday evening; any further news on how she is getting on with her beau? Please do tell me that they have progressed past the staring at one another with a tweet of the lightest conversation in between long stares?"

"Oh goodness, yes they have," Elizabeth nudged Mrs Collins for her digs at Jane and Bingley, "She does report that it continues to go well, though she laments the withdrawal of the Hursts and Miss Bingley to town for the Season, though if one were to ask me, she is better off without them. You know, I am sure of it that they tried to strong-arm their brother into leaving Netherfield altogether?"

"Eliza, how can you know such a thing?"

"My powers of deduction are quite astute!" Elizabeth replied with a wink.

"Yes, but at times rather conspiratorial and given to whimsy…" Charlotte shot back.

"You wound me!" Elizabeth laughed again. "Truly, it would not take an inordinate amount of intelligence to make that conclusion. We received a letter from her stating that they all would be removing from the neighborhood while Mr Bingley was in London for a few days on business. This news sent Jane into a state of worry, and my mother into a fit of nerves. However, when Mr Bingley returned from town a day early so he could see Jane, he came by - with Caroline in tow no less! – and she had to be compelled by her brother to retract her announcement in person and make a thorough apology for any confusion she may have caused, and that they would be going to all of the households who had received her letter to retract and apologize in the same manner. I have never seen Mr Bingley so cross before!"  
"Nor Caroline so contrite?"

"I dare say, there was nothing contrite about her! She was much like a child who had been caught in the pastry cupboard and made to apologize to the cook!" Elizabeth waved a hand in the air dramatically, and was about to expound more on how, fortunately, this incident most likely encouraged Bingley's sisters to go back to London without him, but her eye was caught by the approaching figures rounding the corner of the garden by the parsonage.

"My husband returns, and with a visitor? I wonder whom he could have managed to brought back with him from Rosings?" Charlotte mused, and could not help imply many things about both her husband and the company kept at Rosings in her statement.

Elizabeth grinned and as she was standing to meet the approaching men said, "Let us hope that whomever he is, he adds some new conversation to our visits there… or at least becomes a new target for Lady Catherine's examinations!"

"Lizzy!" Charlotte hissed, though barely suppressing a grin herself.

Mr Collins, in his usual manner, introduced their visitor as Colonel Fitzwilliam, nephew to Lady Catherine, the younger son of her brother, the venerable Earl of Matlock. After inviting the Colonel into the parsonage for a small refreshment after the walk back from Rosings House, it was decided by all that a grand tour of the parsonage and its gardens would be a splendid activity.

Elizabeth, as she was want to do, made note of her initial impressions of Lady Catherine's relation: tall, though with a disproportion of weight resting in his long legs as compared to his shoulders, though his fine navy blue coat and cravat were well tailored to balance his figure. As far as his features were, he was nothing spectacular to behold; his face long and square at the jaw, round, large slate-blue eyes, an unremarkable nose, and thin lips, all under a curly thatch of dark ginger hair. What struck her about him, however, was a wonderful air of ease and affability from him that, while he still definitely bore the carriage and style of a son of nobility, instilled almost instantly a liking for his presence. Add to that the contrast she noted to herself sometime during the tour of the house itself, that this man was a very close relation to Mr Darcy, whom, while being handsome in appearance, had embodied all the hauteur and inaccessibility that marked those of his station, and they could not have been more different at first encounter!

While Elizabeth hung back behind the rest of the party while Mr Collins displayed his home (who was making sure to note every detail that was seen to by Lady Catherine, which Elizabeth realized at length was word-for-word the same speech he had given Sir William, Maria, and herself upon their arrival two weeks ago) due to the narrowness of the hallways and stairwell, and caught up when they exited to the garden. When they began the tour through Mr Collins' vegetable-garden, Colonel Fitzwilliam gallantly offered Elizabeth his arm for the stroll without any delay, and upon seeing that Mr Collins, in his zeal to expound on the virtues of wood-shavings as groundcover for his pea sprouts, neglected to offer his own wife his arm, and so offered his left to Mrs Collins. Both women exchanged playful glances and accepted their new acquaintance's kind offer, and though Mr Collins did indeed behold the spectacle before him, it was hardly of notice of him that he had left his own wife to the care of another man. Such things were the sort of folly that usually amused Elizabeth, but when it came to her worries for her friend, she could not smile but only glance at Charlotte from time to time to try and ascertain her feelings, which she found herself failing as she often did with Charlotte. This made her troubled for the rest of the garden-tour.

When they had returned to the back door to the parsonage, Mr Collins found himself suddenly and uncharacteristically without a new subject to speak on; for here in his tour of his humble home he would usually go on to sing the many praises of Rosings house, its associated grounds, and his Patroness, Lady Catherine, but today had enough sense to realize that not only had he already spoken much about Rosings to the Colonel, but that the man may already be quite familiar with Lady Catherine and her family seeing that HE was one of her family. Luckily for the vicar, the awkward but welcome silence was of short duration, as his Curate, Mr Howell, came running up the lane and informed Mr Collins that some urgent business in the parish needed his attention. At first, Mr Collins was incensed that the Curate interrupt the entertainment of his guest, but once the Curate mentioned that if the business was not seen to by the end of the day, Lady Catherine would be most displeased (which was a tactic often used by the Curate, who was a sensible man, and Mr Collins, who was not, fell for it every time) and making the most hasty and heartfelt apology to Colonel Fitzwilliam, to which the Colonel magnanimously absolved him of any wrongdoing, then scurried away to go and actually do his job.

Mrs Collins bade that they set a while on the benches in the garden that she and Elizabeth had been at when the men had first arrived. She was about to sit down with them when it dawned upon her how much time had passed.

"Heavens, I have nearly forgotten to speak with the Cook about what joint of meat Mr Collins wanted this evening for supper! I must excuse myself for at least a little while, Colonel. Eliza, would you be so kind as to keep our guest entertained while I am occupied?" she looked at her friend apologetically, though there was more meaning behind her look, as there often was with Charlotte.

"Of course, Mrs Collins," Elizabeth replied, her words short, but her eyes nearly rolling. She knew, of course, that her friend wanted her to make the most of some legitimate time alone with this new gentleman. Coming off the heels of her disappointment with Mr Wickham, Elizabeth was not eager to put her heart under the power of any man, no matter how well-connected, and while what she had seen of his behavior was attractive, he did not impress her as handsome enough to make her leave sense behind. Thus she resolved to not hope for, or encourage, this gentleman's attentions.

"Well," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, breaking the momentary silence, "It appears that Mr and Mrs Collins have a very comfortable living under the shadow of my Aunt's imposing presence. I would dare to say they quite make the best of it."

She took his joking about Lady Catherine to heart, noting that she seemed to have the same reputation amongst her family that she did with everyone else. "They do," she agreed, "And I am sure Lady Catherine and Mr Collins' alliance is a match ordained from above!"

Once the words had left her mouth, she worried that she may have assumed too much and just insulted her to a family member, but the Colonel broke into a hearty baritone laugh and she was at ease.

"Oh my Aunt… I'm sure she exposed herself to you in the first sentence she spoke? Come come, did she insult your dress, or did she make some statement about your family whom she knows not and has no business speaking about?"

Elizabeth was slightly taken aback at how easy and familiar he was with her, a veritable stranger, but could not help herself to keep up with the conversation at hand. "She did regard and declare me to be a 'genteel and pretty sort of girl', right before she informed me on how terrible of a choice it was that I and my younger sisters were out into society before my eldest sister had been married," she said with a jocularly serious tone, though she ended with a smile.

"And continued on in the same manner henceforth?" he added, one orange eyebrow raised and a crooked grin on his mouth, which gave his face a comical expression that added to Elizabeth's amusement with the conversation.

"You know your aunt well, sir!"

"I do, but as you have shown, it does not necessitate a lifetime to figure her out. It seems that two weeks is sufficient?"

"Oh, I am sure there are intricacies to her character that one certainly cannot assess in the course of such a short acquaintance," Elizabeth demurred, feeling worried again that the conversation was edging towards ground that might be too familiar again.

"Certainly," the Colonel began, thoughtfully stroking his chin, "that could be said of many a person. But in this case, I would say that my Aunt is ever as much as she appears to be on first impressions, and assuredly does NOT improve as time goes on!" he finished, and when he saw that Elizabeth could not contain the wicked grin from overcoming her face, smiled just as widely with a chuckle.

"How long do you stay in Kent? Just for the Easter holiday?" Elizabeth asked, changing the subject to lighter things. However amusing the previous subject was, she felt it still somewhat too familiar already, even for her, and she still had it in mind to be cautious with any behavior that might seem forward and thus cause a complication she had no wish to deal with.

"More or less, three weeks or so, long enough to help my Aunt with estate business and short enough that I am not driven quite mad by it. I usually make my visit with my cousin Darcy, as we watch each other's backs and bear the assault when the other cannot take any more, but he has gone on tour with his sister and abandoned me to face our loving relations solo."

Elizabeth's ears perked up at the mention of a mutual acquaintance; his was not a name she liked to hear after all she saw and experienced of him back home, and had no desire to mention that she had met the Colonel's cousin. Unfortunately, she was quickly learning that Col. Fitzwilliam was much more observant of those he was in conversation with than the average man, and so her reaction to the Darcy name piqued his interest in turning the conversation in that direction on his own.

"Ah…" he hesitated, but pressed on after a moment, "Have you met my cousin Darcy, Miss Bennet? Come to think, he was in Hertfordshire not long ago; did your cousin not say that is where you are from?"  
"I am, and, yes I have met Mr Darcy when he was visiting in Hertfordshire last fall." Elizabeth left it at that, hoping that the Colonel's powers of observation would tell him that she didn't want to speak on the subject.

"Interesting…" he replied, again with his hand on his chin in thought.

Just as Elizabeth was really beginning to fear having to talk about Mr Darcy again when she had just felt quite done with his insults and glowers through many talks with Charlotte, the Colonel mercifully let the subject drop and instead asserted that she must know Mr Bingley as well, to which she cheerfully admitted to, and added that he was courting her sister, Jane.

Elizabeth was glad that they spoke of lighter, more pleasant things for the duration of the rest of his visit that afternoon; he asked of her family and her neighborhood, which she spoke feelingly of the things she loved about them and downplayed (or quite glossed over) the things that were perhaps a bit embarrassing about them. The Colonel, for his part, was ever an attentive and gentlemanly conversation partner, and added his own color to the subjects they spoke on. When Charlotte returned from seeing to her household, she joined them in speaking about Hertfordshire and the neighborhood around Meryton, and she too was comfortable enough with their new friend's conversation that she was able to exchange a few good-humored barbs with Elizabeth.

The hour was growing later, and the Colonel announced with real regret that he had to get back to Rosings for the good of the entire neighborhood, lest his Aunt become cross at his being late for supper. He then asked Mrs Collins if she would mind if he came by to visit the parsonage from time to time during his stay, to which she said,

"Of course! I, and certainly Mr Collins would be honored by our continued acquaintance!" she said enthusiastically.

The Colonel smiled brightly, tucking his cane under his arm and adjusting his hat, and when they had walked together to the garden gate, turned to the ladies and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Mrs Collins, for your hospitality, and Miss Bennet, for pleasant conversation and company. Please send my apologies to Mr Collins that I was not able to wait for his return to take my leave."

"Certainly," said Charlotte, as she and Elizabeth curtsied in turn.

"Good afternoon, to the both of you, and I do hope that we shall see more of one another soon!" he said, gazing on each woman before he turned to leave.

They waved to him until he passed the corner down the road to Rosings and could not be seen more. Elizabeth knew without even looking that her friend was smirking at her again.

"Well, he's quite the gentleman, is he not, Eliza?"

"Indeed."

"The son of an Earl! Quite the acquaintance we have made today," Charlotte continued, turning around to return to the parsonage.  
"Quite."

"Did you not see how he paid you particular attention?"

There it was. "Charlotte, you're being silly."

Charlotte snorted.

Within the hour, Mr Collins returned from his business, and Maria emerged from her room, both dismayed that they had missed part of Col. Fitzwilliam's visit to the Parsonage. Maria was quite put out that she seemed to always miss out on interesting situations, and Mr Collins that he hadn't been there to receive his compliments in person.

Elizabeth excused herself to her room to change for dinner, having banished her friend's insinuations that the Colonel had paid her marked attention with the logic that followed: of course he paid attention to her since he had been left with no other company besides herself for quite a while, and that he was a very well-bred gentleman with very lively and interesting social skills as appropriate for his station.

"Besides, he's not at all handsome, either," she said to herself as she fixed some stray curls in her coiffiture, which as soon as the words had been uttered she felt deeply troubled. Another, similar statement made by the man's cousin echoed through her ears again… 'Not handsome enough to tempt me'… She suddenly felt quite ashamed of herself for lacking the empathy to be better than to judge another on their appearance so quickly and flippantly, no matter if the opinion had been expressed in public or not.

So, having set out to think no more of the man, she now could not help but try and reform her own opinion of his looks, and ended up thinking about not much else the entire evening.


	4. Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting

Hello Dear Readers!

Again, thank you all for patience with my slow writing pace. These early chapters are always hard as I begin to see how these characters 'play' with each other. I think I'm getting the hang of their chatter a bit by the end of this one.

Also, thank you as well for the reviews and follows. It means much to know that someone is reading along.

Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting

Elizabeth rose early, even for her, the next morning. Mr Collins had been rapturious about his new connection with the venerable Colonel Fitzwilliam, going on and on about the wonderful compliment of his visit and how the man was a model of all that is noble and high-born; Mrs Collins, for her part, kept shooting Elizabeth meaningful glances at dinner when it was mentioned how gracious and gentlemanly the Colonel had been to the ladies of the parsonage. She endured quite a bit of questioning from Maria and Mr Collins when it was revealed that she had spent time in conversation with their new acquaintance, and after that she had excused herself early and escaped to her room. She'd already had quite enough of eligible gentlemen and highborn rich people being spoken of as if they were some sort of angelic beings sent from on high, and so she went to bed with plans to dodge any further conversations about such people by setting out for a very early, and very long walk.

Her own dreams seemed to have plotted against her as well; her night was filled with visions of Mr Collins going on and on about one particular chimney piece in Rosings over and over again, where in the dream she was somehow glued to the chair in which she sat and she was unable to cry out for him to stop. When it seemed that she could take no more, she found herself again at the Meryton Assembly last fall, but it was she who was speaking to Mr Bingley about the eligible bachelors in the room instead of Mr Darcy commenting on the ladies.

After saying completely horrible things about many of the men in the room (most of whom she had, in her waking state, no clue as to their identity) at last there were three men left before her judgement: Mr Wickham, Mr Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Well, Lizzy, there's only three men left in the entire room now! However will the dance go on at this rate?" Bingley asked.

"Mr Wickham is quite handsome… And so is Mr Darcy, though not very charming, nor very kind," she said, her voice in a tone not unlike Lady Catherine's. She could see the men make faces in reaction to her: Wickham seemed pleased, Darcy, smug but more dour when she pointed out his faults.

"We must dance now! Come, all, let's jig!" Bingley shouted to the near-empty assembly room.

The three men before her approached, each with a hand outstretched. First came Mr Darcy, who looked strangely eager to dance with her, but she was reluctant to take his hand and in a blink he was simply gone. Wickham came, his charming smile as she remembered it at first but suddenly it distorted to some sort of sneer, and as his hand was to reach hers he turned and was in the arms of another lady. He danced away from her, laughing menacingly as she had never heard him laugh before, and it chilled her to the bone. She was left with only Colonel Fitzwilliam in front of her, his gaze good-humored, his crooked smile gentle.

"You never gave me your estimation, Miss Bennet," he said to her. He withdrew his hand and waited.

"You are not handsome at all, sir," she found herself repeating herself from the day before. When she said this, the Colonel did not leave, or even sadden, just folded his arms like he was waiting.

"Sir, will you not leave with everyone else?" she asked sullenly, realizing that she was quite alone now.

"But there is someone behind you, madam, and I should not go," he nodded calmly.

Elizabeth turned on her heel to see who it was, but all that met her was darkness and the wicked laughter that had come from Wickham.

She awoke to a foggy morning, filled with dread, the laugh still echoing in her ears. She could not dress fast enough, even bypassed the kitchen so eager was she to escape the parsonage, and struck forth on the path to Rosings Park at nearly a run.

It was not long before the bite of the cool morning air against her bare cheeks and through the thin cloth of her dress that was not covered by her spencer renewed her senses, and the sunlight melted away the low-lying fog along with her own anxiety. She pressed forward through her now familiar route with a quickness, the feeling of her heart beating in her chest and the pace of her feet the only thing occupying her mind, until she came to a narrower path that had caught her attention the day before while she had walked with Charlotte and Maria. The sound of running water echoed lightly in the distance the path was going, and her curiosity got the best of her, so off the main path she went.

She was instantly gratified by the wild growth of trees and shrubs, all awash with the prickles of new buds and some with tender green first leaves of spring; sprightly robins and wrens flittered through the branches, some with gossamer threads and blades of grass in tow for the building of a nest in the thick of the forest. As she walked further, the sound of bubbling water became louder, and the path soon led down an embankment to the side of a lovely forest brook, not much wider than a country lane. Grinning widely, she breathed deep the musty aroma of silt, soaked wood and rock, and green ferns. Grabbing a handful of smooth pebbles, she continued along the path skipping rocks and humming to herself as she went.

Some minutes passed and she came to a widening of the brook where it created a small pond of still water that reflected the sun, which was now well-established in the morning sky, and it seemed that she had probably gone far enough for the day. She was also having difficulty picking up where the path continued from here, and thought it unwise to try and go further lest she become lost in the sizable woods around Rosings. But she was not ready to head back, as her walk had been far too nice today, and the peace she had established here seemed too precious to set aside just yet, so she found a large stone to sit on and rest before she turned back.

She sat for some time watching the water and listening to the forest around her, when from the corner of her eye she spied something curious: she could make out writing etched into the side of one of the trees in a thicket of vegetation that jutted out slightly into the widened book. She stood and walked closer to discover that there was indeed words carved into the white hide of an old birch tree; the script was not new, nor was it entered masterfully, like the work of children. Scrunching her eyes together and tracing her fingers over the letters she made out the following:

"LAKE CATTYCRAWS

KEEP OUT!

PROPERTY OF

FD AND RF"

"Lake Cattycraws?" Elizabeth said to herself with a smirk, and now her curiosity was piqued more to see what lay beyond the spot where she had rested, and so found what looked like it may have been a path through some shrubs and picked her way through, being careful to not step on anything sharp or to catch her dress on thorns.

While she was looking down it suddenly came to her attention that the path she was following was recently made, as she set her foot into a larger, and fresh, footprint in the loamy ground. Ice gripped her gut as she froze in place, and she peered around her slowly so as to not draw attention to herself, though she knew that she had already made quite a bit of noise already. The feeling of dread that began her morning from her disturbing dreams returned, and her eyes shot behind her, paranoia that the same specter had materialized somehow and followed her here. Nothing there. She sighed, shook her head and admonished herself for being so silly. However, someone real had been there, and while she was an adventuresome sort of girl, she knew better than to take chances with unknown men in unfamiliar woods.

Resolving to head back posthaste, she took one more look through the trees to where her curiosity had taken her perhaps a little too far when she spied the boots which were responsible for the prints on the ground peeking out from behind another fallen log. She recognized them as black Hessians – gentleman's boots, and whomever they belonged to had to be reclining against the log. Her heart began to race, and she knew she had stayed much too long. Taking no care at all for where she stepped and where her skirts were, she pushed her way a few steps back through the brush when she heard a man's voice call out:

"Good lord, I could have heard you coming for miles… I know you're over there. I do hope that you are not planning anything untoward?"

Elizabeth's first instinct was to run as fast as she could in the other direction, but there was something about the man's voice that made her pause, and he spoke again.

"I had hoped for a bit of peace out here, seeing as this is private land and all, but it is rather hard to nap when there is someone bungling about in the understory, is it not?"

Elizabeth was quite sure that she had heard this voice before, and her treacherous curiosity lit back up, though her better sense was still telling her to leave and leave quickly. As she turned around to peek over her shoulder once more, a large hand broke through the bushes to her side and before she knew what had happened, found herself being pinned by the shoulders against a tree, the tall figure of the man menacing over her with a fierce scowl on his face.

"Let me go!" she screamed more in reflex than in thought, and began thrashing back and forth to try and free herself from her attacker.

"Miss Bennet?" the man said to her incredulously, and released his grip on her immediately.

The sound of her name broke through whatever sort of manic terror that had gripped her and realized that it was none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam who she had stumbled upon. She looked up at him again, as the dark look of wrath that had made him almost unrecognizable a moment before melted away to a concerned look of embarrassment.

"Blast it all, what on Earth are you doing creeping around in the woods in such a way?" he said with a tone of apologetic exasperation as he gesticulated to the forest so obviously surrounding them, though she could see that his eyes were searching her for signs of injury. "I thought you were at best a local boy up to no good, and at worst, a criminal attempting to attack me," he shook his head as he picked some twigs off of her bonnet, "you are not injured, I hope?"

"I… I am well, sir," she stammered, and began to self consciously pat down her skirts for leaves and debris that her ride through the bushes had left. She gathered herself, did her best to smile, and reminded herself that the situation had turned out better than it could have. "I apologize for intruding on your solitude; I had no idea that you were here until but a moment ago."

"Please, you needn't apologize to me," he looked at her earnestly, his large eyes full of genuine remorse, "come this way, you cannot be comfortable here in the brush."

He held his hand out to her and nodded his head to indicate that they go back where he had come from; she could not but oblige, and placed her still shaking hand into his and he led her through shrubs and trees to emerge onto a cove by the widened brook. He stopped by the log where she had spied him reclining before and gestured for her to sit, which she did with much relief: her heart still beat quite wildly.

As she took some deep breaths and untied and removed her crooked and somewhat rumpled bonnet, she watched the Colonel awkwardly wait by the water, his arms crossed then uncrossed, then run a hand through his hair; a glance towards her then away to the water just as fast. It lightened her mood to see him so obviously mortified and now at somewhat of a loss at how to act. Another few beats passed, and she could see the moment that he resolved to come face his embarrassment head on: he straightened with a huff, turned on his heel, and came to perch on the log, making sure to give her quite a bit of space between them.

"Miss Bennet," he began, his hands fidgeting before him the only sign now of his unease, "I offer my sincerest apologies for trespassing on your person. Any excuses I made before are of no concern; I am alone at fault for my actions. I hope you can forgive me."

His eyes dropped to his hands when he finished his apology, and there in his mannerism, be it how his hands moved about nervously or how he looked away like a sincerely chastened child, there was something warmly endearing to Elizabeth. When he looked up at her again, he was greeted by her wryly shining eyes and a small smile.

"Of course, Colonel, I hold nothing against you, nothing at all. I knew that I was where I should not have been, and am actually quite relieved that I stumbled upon you and not a complete stranger," she saw his whole demeanor relax and a ghost of that crooked smile of his swept over his jaw. She sighed as she continued, "For the first time I feel like I should have attended to my mother's admonishments about my wild and independent streak getting me into trouble out on one of my rambles."

"Ah, so this sort of adventure is nothing new for you?" he inquired.

"Yes. Well, all but the part where I am manhandled in the bushes," she said drolly, though with a sidelong glance to see if her barb had met its target.

He raised an eyebrow, but remained unmoved, "Is that so? Why, a truly wild woman would be roughed up twice weekly at least. I would only venture to name someone like yourself… slightly daring, perhaps adventurous at best. But not wild, no!"

"But," she replied in turn, "one cannot assume that one's definition of a wild woman is the same across the entirety of the countryside! Just as a turn of phrase may be acceptable in Newcastle, it may be rather offensive in London or Kent, the definition of a wild woman in Hertfordshire, where we are simple and sensitive folk, may not equal that of… where is it that you hail from, sir?"

"Derbyshire."

"Ah, well indeed, there it all is! I concede, I am not equal to the wild women that no doubt match the famously wild landscape of Derbyshire, but as far as the sensibilities of my dear Hertfordshire, I am nearly as wild as they come!" She finished her declaration with a flourish, and after a moment, both of them broke into a fit of laughter, effectively banishing the awkwardness and discomfort that had marked their meeting that morning.

The Colonel was had his mouth half open to ask another question of Elizabeth when he was stopped by an unfortunately loud stomach-rumble that had obviously come from his companion, as her face turned cherry-red and her eyes widened like saucers and she placed her hands over her belly, though powerless to stop its hungry protests from being heard.

"Skipped breakfast?" her companion quipped after the noise subsided, his face straight but barely so.

"Either that or I have eaten a bear and not properly chewed!" she cried, her joke thinly covering the stark embarrassment she still felt at her body so loudly protesting while she was in the company of a gentleman.

"Well then, perhaps it is the bear that is hungry?" he asked gently, apparently feeling her unease and seeking to convey that there was no need for worry. "I hope that this particular bear likes scones, because I happen to have some with me," he reached behind the log and produced a brown overcoat that Elizabeth had not noticed before, and from a pocket appeared two triangular scones wrapped in one of Lady Catherine's good napkins.

"Pray, sir, do you have a bakery in your greatcoat?" Elizabeth laughed, accepting one of the pastries. "But, thank you, you are very kind in sharing when it is completely my folly in being too eager to be out to stop in the parsonage kitchen, where there was no doubt something that I could have eaten."

"My pleasure, Miss Bennet. I would accept more accolades in the appearance of giving up a sizeable portion of my own meal, but I must own that I ate two already on the way here! But also, it was, for my part, a stroke of luck that I know of a particular way out of Rosings House that leads through the kitchen and that the cook had just set these out to cool when I came through. Say what you want about my aunt, but she does have a right good cook in her kitchen!"

"Indeed! This is very tasty," she replied after swallowing a bite, realizing she had already eaten half of it, "though it could just be the very hungry bear talking; I'm sure that fellow would eat almost anything!"

He smiled and offered her the second scone; she shook her head, and nodded to him while her mouth was full to indicate that he should have the last one. Raising his eyebrows, he questioned her resolve, to which she shook her head again. He shrugged and bit one of the crispy corners off, and the two of them sat in pleasant silence, watching the water ripple under the ever-brightening morning light.

"So," Elizabeth said after a short while, "is this the famous Lake Cattycraws?"

The Colonel, who seemed to have fallen into some contemplation of his own, first nodded, then realized that the name that she referred to this little cove as was not generally known and meant that Elizabeth had seen the old sign carved into the beech tree by the sand bar, and sheepishly raised his hand to rake through his hair.

"Oh, that," he began, and stood to stretch his long legs, "indeed, it is. Refuge of many summer days for young boys who have not the patience to listen to their relations speak on the 'good old days', nor for a particular aunt's unrelenting observations."

"It seems that would extend to grown men in the same situation?"

He sighed loudly, "Yes."

"That fine warning sign is your handiwork then?" she asked, leaning back on her arms and resting her head on one shoulder as she looked up at him.

"A joint effort, which is why we both initialed it."

"Oh yes, I did notice that, but I was at a loss as to whom the initials belonged," she said, her brow furrowing. "FD, then must be Mr Darcy, and RF is you… Though I admit, somewhat sheepishly, that I cannot recall what either of your Christian names are. Well, unless your name happens to be 'Colonel', which would be quite strange!"

"Certainly there have been times where I've felt my rank was somehow my identity, but thankfully I do have a name. I am not surprised that you do not know it, because I don't believe that it was included on our introduction. Darcy has always been somewhat awkward with his given name, and so does not tend to encourage its usage even amongst friends and family. It is possible you may not have heard what his is either during your brief acquaintance," he mused as he kicked at some stones embedded in the sand before him.

"What sort of odd name must he have then? You cannot leave me in suspense!" Elizabeth cried playfully.

"See, you may know that it is custom amongst some of the upper class for mothers of consequential families to name their sons after their illustrious line, and so it was with my poor cousin. His mother – my aunt – Lady Anne gave him the name 'Fitzwilliam' to connect him to our clan. Aside from the name being rather cumbersome, having had me as one of his closest friends has always proven rather confusing when being hollered at in a crowded meeting room!"

"That would be dreadfully confusing!" she agreed. Seeking to remove any of her acquaintance with Mr Darcy away from the conversation at hand (which she worried that she would be entrapped into speaking poorly or outright lying about Mr Darcy's conduct to someone who was one of his closest family members), she went back to an earlier subject. "Lake Cattycraws, I can only imagine is named for your aunt's… lovely Persian cat?"

He grinned wickedly when he saw her eyes bright with mischief, "Oh yes, of course! And not at all referring at all to the Great Lady herself, nor to commemorate the time when I was ten and used the name in direct address to her in person, and the ear-boxing that came afterwards!" he said, rubbing at his right ear at the very memory of it, and Elizabeth winced at its mention, having been on the receiving end of such discipline a few times herself.

"But even if the name were not created in the kindest of mindsets, you and you cousin have bestowed an honor upon your Aunt by naming this spot after her, for I have seen few places so blessed with such natural beauty," Elizabeth said as she rose to stand nearer the Colonel and gaze about the little cove.

Large, reaching, gnarled arms of ancient oaks and beech created a filter against the sunlight, enough so that it was not dark during the day, but the light did not become glaring or oppressive. This also dappled sunbeams down into the swelling of the little Rosings creek, where the water moved lazily and reflected light as if it were starlight emerging from the water. The creek here was deeper, no doubt useful for a little swimming in summer if one were of a youth's proportions, and small fish were seen darting about the stones worn quite round by years of the creekwaters rushing past. Lichens and moss were abundant on the undersides and eastward slopes of the trees and their limbs, and thick bushes and grasses filled in the understory, making the cove quite private, and insulating it from any sounds but the bubble of the creek, the soughing of the wind through leaves, and a robin's lilting song.

"I had never considered that point of view before," he nodded, a hand pressed to his chin thoughtfully, "That is a very generous thought towards my Aunt, especially seeing as the compliment would be lost on her. She has no appreciation for natural beauty, as I'm sure you may have gathered from your visits to Rosings House."

"Her tastes are not similar to my own, I can certainly say," Elizabeth demurred.

"Hearing that inclines me to like you more," he smiled.

She arched a brow at him, studying his face at that statement. She was not quite sure what to make of his words, but as she did not know the gentleman very well, she quickly decided to make nothing of it. He had been rather affable and had such an easy humor that skipped lively on the border between cheek and outright impropriety while he had been at the parsonage, and today was no different in this intimate of a setting. Officers of his sort, as she had heard, had not only the duty of being leaders and tacticians in battle, but amusing and genteel company while in society, though she only had experience with militia officers, and none of them came from the sort of breeding that Colonel Fitzwilliam did.

"Are you inclined to find favor in all whom have traits that are unlike Lady Catherine, or just this particular one?" she rejoined with an arched brow and unable to hide an accompanying smirk.

"In the absence of other knowledge of the person, I would say any dissimilitude to my Aunt is a promising start."

They laughed heartily again at the truth in his deadpan. Elizabeth spied some smooth pebbles and as she knelt down to pick them up, said to him, "At times I have found myself thankful for her presence here as I visit with my cousins, though it is of a peculiar nature," she stood again, and tossed a stone, watching it skip three times over the water, "I do rather enjoy finding the humor in those who think themselves quite important, and though Mr Collins does provide one such as I with plenty of fodder for amusement, even I have my limits when it comes to his… ah…"

"Prattle?"

"Your words, not mine, Colonel!" she winked, and handed him a stone. "But yes, he does have the ability to even try a saint, which I am surely not! However, Lady Catherine is in a class quite of her own, and though I suppose I should be offended by her, I cannot be for the sheer amount of ridiculousness that I have to reflect upon for many hours after! Oh, and to watch both the Great Lady and her Parson in repartee is a treat that is not to be missed!"

"Oho, I have seen that one!" he cried, throwing his own stone to skip, which hit the water four times before sinking. Elizabeth nodded, impressed, and threw another stone of her own. Four skips. She handed him another stone.

"I am glad that you can see her in a humorous light. I must admit," he threw his stone; three skips, he narrowed his eyes and grimaced comically before he went on, "she tries me to my limits. Normally on these visits my cousin Darcy and I share in the burden of both taking blows and complaining of them, while also sharing stories of how we have both had to make apologies to those she has offended here in Kent and in Town. I was not sure what I was going to do, but coming here today and finding an ally has been quite the balm. I should thank Mr Collins for having relations that resemble him not at all!"

"We are but distant cousins…" Elizabeth added dryly, as she threw the last stone. Five skips! She raised her fist in triumph, and the Colonel shrugged, conceding defeat in their unspoken game.

"I am rather glad you have not been offended by my frankness, I do realize that I've been rather familiar and probably inappropriate in my complaints about such a close relation to someone who is but a new acquaintance," he said, turning to look at her directly, his eyes warm with an unmistakable look of thanks. Elizabeth could not help but feel slightly bashful at such earnestness, and smiled brightly lest she blush.

"Conversation and the airing of complaints is a service I am happy to oblige! I am often given to saying too much of what is on my mind, and it is refreshing to find someone who has the same difficulty!" she replied with a small curtsey.

Their eyes met again, and the look that held the Colonel's visage had not yet left him. Elizabeth's own eyes were, for a short while, captured there as she studied his face and began to form a new opinion of how it appeared; he was still not classically handsome, but there was something about him that was not unattractive either, and it provoked her to think it rather strange to hold such contradicting feelings about the gentleman's appearance. She suddenly realized that she was staring and broke away from his gaze somewhat abruptly, and looked to the sky to try and collect herself. There she noticed that the sun was already quite high. How long had she stayed already?

"Oh dear," she said to herself, turning and running back to the log to fetch her bonnet, "I seem to have lost track of time. I must start back to the parsonage before I am missed and Charlotte begins to worry!"

"I'm terribly sorry to have kept you; I have forgotten myself as well. May I accompany you back to the main path? I know a way through the woods that is a bit quicker than following the creekbed," the Colonel asked, picking up his greatcoat and hat and hastily put them on as Elizabeth fastened her bonnet. She nodded. He offered her his arm, which she took, and he led her through the brush back towards the main path through Rosings Park.

In short order they reached the foot path, and they both stopped to pick twigs and leaves from their clothes and brushed the sandy dirt from their shoes.

"I believe we must part here," Elizabeth began, "Thank you again for the scone. The dreaded stomach-bear must have been quite satisfied, as there were no more disturbances from him!"

"Aha, any time, any time! And thank you for the unexpected, but most very welcome company at Lake Cattycraws. You may be, to my knowledge, the first visitor of the fairer sex to those famed shores! That is quite an honor!" he bowed deeply and tipped his hat.

Elizabeth curtseyed with a smile and was about to turn to be on her way, but was suddenly possessed with an impertinent question, and found herself asking it before she could reconsider:

"Colonel, it occurs to me that you never did tell me your name."

He too had turned to take a different route back to Rosings House, and he paused, replying,

"It is Richard, ma'am."


End file.
